Starting Out

Ok. I've just been reading Julie & Julia - eagerly anticipating the new film which opens this Friday, of which I am very excited - and I thought that I might have a bash at blogging. Can't hurt anyone can it? Incidentally, if you are pained by my efforts, either tell me in a nice way or just don't come back.
I've been interested in food for ages now, not exactly sure how long, but a good while anyway. I'm eighteen and having got a few A Levels, I'm now waiting to go to Durham uni at the beginning of October. All through this summer I've been cooking my face off - cooking lunches, when sandwiches would have done fine, doing far too many curries after buying both Anjum Anand's books, too many Chineses - Ching He Huang, and baking far too much as a result of avidly watching Rachel Allen's Bake!, and generally having a great time in the kitchen. I still live with my parents, obviously, and have slowly but surely been replacing all their utensils and pans etc with ones that I have bought using my wages from a saturday job in a local newsagents. Basically, when I leave home for good, they won't have enough things in the drawers to cook with, that thorough is my cooking-based consumerism.
Among my friends, I'm now officially labeled as the food snob, or a foodie, a title which I am quite proud of, but also in shadow of as I feel like a fraud most days. I keep having to remind myself though, when I stumble into an area that I am not familar, that I am not as old as other foodies out there, and not as widely experienced in the realms of middle class food snobbery. My feelings of fraudulence do get me down occasionally I have to admit, especially when they are uncovered by my friends. Just last week I was at a friend's helping with dinner, while three others and their parents bustled about the kitchen, readying salads and other quick bites to eat. We were to have falafel (which I had an argument about the pronunciation - help would be greatly appreciated) and pitta bread with houmous as the main centre piece of the impromptu meal. Now, having not really eaten pitta bread before I (stupidly) did not realise that the whole ripping it open and shoving the houmous inside was the correct way of eating it. So you can imagine the hilarity and embarassment when I spread the houmous onto the TOP of the pitta. Oh dear. The piss was ripped out of me there, I can tell you. But, in my defence, I don't cook or eat Greek food that often, so how was I to know?...
Anyway, I think I've gone on long enough, so I will leave for now. I hope that this was a taste of what I hope to be blogging about from now on, and, well, I hope you liked it.